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She swung open the door, not even hearing the piercing creek of rusty hinges before slamming it shut. And then slamming it again when it didn’t latch the first time. She took a step, then jerked to a stop, groaning softly when she heard the sound of fabric ripping. Really?
Quickly, she turned back around, hastily grasping at the plastic door handle until she got the door open and extricated the now ripped bottom hem of the robe. It was required for all of the ceremonies and rituals they performed as a coven, and as Hazel stood there glaring at the mangled fabric, doubts crept through her, crumbling the little bit of confidence she had managed to glean on the short drive to the forested glade.
She cast her violet eyed gaze over the surrounding area, struck all at once by its incredible beauty. The scent of pine hung heavy and fragrant in the air as well as the damp earth and mossy undergrowth. The evening sunset tinged the sky a breathtaking shade of riotous orange red that made it look like the air itself was on fire. Birds sang softly, cocking their heads in curiosity as she began to make her way down, further away from the travelled path and ever closer to the spot she was looking for. Even the squirrels and rabbits seemed to creep out of their hiding spaces, curiosity plain in the way their eyes followed her steps, and their tiny noses bouncing madly as they sniffed furiously.
A sense of peace sank deep the further into the trees she walked, as if the forest itself was reaching out to comfort her. She paused again just to soak it in, unable to continue without savoring the sweet feeling of connectedness that occurred so rarely to her. Tonight will be great. It will be perfect, she reassured herself as she began walking again. It just had to be.
Hazel stumbled into the glade just as the sun winked its last hazy rays over the horizon. The grove was dusted in mysterious blues and indigos, enhanced only by the flickering flame of the bonfire burning fitfully in the center of the group of fifteen or so women. The coven was all there.
“You’re late, Hazel.” The censure in the Mother’s voice had her cringing as she turned to the stern faced woman in her late sixties.
“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. Car problems.”
“That death trap is a menace to society.” Someone else’s voice chimed in from the group, and Hazel didn’t see who the words came from but had a pretty good hunch it was Suzette Williams. She always had something to say about everything, and when it came to Hazel, it was never good.
“Right, well,” Elizabeth sighed, and Hazel flinched again, “just, take your place already. Every one else is ready to begin.”
Hazel quickly moved closer to the circle, trying desperately not to make eye contact with any of the other women. She was the youngest of the group, and by far the least powerful. Standing there, feeling the air crackle with the other’s energy, she was sorely reminded of that fact.
Determinedly, she took her place on the far side of the circle just as the Mother Guardian claimed hers at its head. She cast Hazel one last, sharp look that had embarrassment flaring hot and painful over her body, tinging her normally pale cheeks a bright rosy red. She was grateful for the fire, hoping that its red cast light would camouflage the telltale sign.
Elizabeth’s voice rang clear and true, echoing off pine needles and fallen leaves, dens, and nests, and mossy knolls.
“We are here to offer our thanks, our gratitude, our ever lasting joy, and hope, and our very energy on behalf of the gifts that have been bestowed upon us.”
Hazel ignored the twinge of dread that filled her at Elizabeth’s words. Gifts indeed. She was barely strong enough to make an already lit candle flame move the tiniest bit, and yet, here she was, offering up thanks for her supposed talents. Every other woman there was like a volcano compared to her own meager spark. She pushed the negative thoughts away, refusing to let herself dwell on what she couldn’t change.
She, like everyone else, had been born the way she was, with the skills and proclivities and challenges that she had to learn to live with. Her natural optimism reasserted itself as that familiar feeling of calm swept over her. Through the pine covered hills and sharp, rocky mountains it came to crash over her in a wave of peace that had her rocking back on her heels, smiling softly up into the night sky as the very first stars began to wink into view.
